We walked into the NICU expecting a short pit stop and instead got front row seats to the scariest movie we never auditioned for. While the rest of the world was busy debating what to have for lunch, our world hit the pause button right outside those doors. And there you were, looking like a calm caffeine-fueled Jedi ready to guard the tiniest, most important humans we’ve ever seen.  

Seriously, you didn’t just care for a baby; you were basically running a high-stakes boot camp for our baby. You memorized every beep, every blinking light, and every cryptic number on those monitors. You could spot a slight dip in oxygen or a barely-there grimace before we could even locate the emergency call button. You’re part nurse, part medical detective, and probably part wizard. Managing tubes, IVs, meds measured in amounts smaller than dust bunnies, and care plans that changed faster than our minds about what to eat for dinner. 

You were the fiercest advocate and the gentlest explainer, often doing superhuman work while carrying the weight of the world (and a thousand responsibilities) on your shoulders without anyone outside seeing the true hustle. 

But here’s the real kicker: you gave us sanity. You answered the same panicked question ten times in an hour without making us feel like total rookies. You threw confetti (mentally, maybe?) for every single gram gained and every tiny victory. You let us cry on your shoulder one minute and cheered us on the next. You taught us how to be parents in a jungle of wires, showing us how to touch our own kid without immediately breaking something. You reminded us that even tucked inside an incubator, that was our child.  

You powered through shifts, probably skipped lunch more times than we can count, and came back day after day to keep the miracles growing strong. To you, this might be just another Tuesday. To us, you were the lifeline holding our entire universe steady. 

So, from the bottom of our grateful (and slightly sleep-deprived) hearts: Thank you. Thank you for your skill, your marathon-level patience, your compassion, and that massive heart. Thank you for loving our baby when we were still figuring out the instruction manual. Thank you for standing beside us at our weakest and helping our littlest fighter become a bigger fighter.

The day our baby entered this world was the happiest yet scariest day of our lives. He was in SVT, mom was still on the OR table, and I, as a dad, was scared and torn on who needed me by their side. The OR/L&D team quickly called for backup, and there you came in with a superhero cape disguised as scrubs and OR gear. Your expertise and professionalism shone, and even in that chaotic moment before our baby was taken from us to the NICU, you still came and brought him to us and explained everything. I knew in that moment you represented a team of heroes.

Thank you for including us in his care and for also being the nurse who nursed our parents emotionally. We absolutely love you.